


travelling like the light

by blackkat



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [74]
Category: Bleach, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Once a stubborn, sticky-fingered Rukongai brat,alwaysa stubborn, sticky-fingered Rukongai brat, and it makes getting dragged into another world by a snakey bastard a lot easier for Shūhei to deal with. Shinji is less impressed, both with the pick-pocketing and the little blond kid who takes a shine to them.(Naruto decides to trade in his dream of the Hokage's hat for a sword and a fondness for jutsus. It's probably for the best that Shūhei and Shinji won't be around to suffer through the aftermath.)





	travelling like the light

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on my tumblr that asked for Shinji in Konoha. I regret nothing.

“This is _bullshit_ ,” Shinji says loudly.

Shūhei winces and tries not to let it show, even though he should be _used_ to this by now. Maybe Izuru has a point about him being spoiled with sane captains all this time. “Captain, it got us in the gate, so it can't be that bad—”

“It got us in because they _thought I was someone else_ ,” Shinji says, offended. He crosses his arms over his chest, naked zanpakuto dangling from a fingertip, and Shūhei firmly stomps on the urge to give him the Academy lecture on weapons safety that he _clearly_ has forgotten. Shinji's a captain, he reminds himself, and it’s probably a bad sign that it’s not even the first time this hour. Shinji is a captain, and maybe not _his_ captain, but at least until they find a way back home Shūhei needs to treat him like one.

“Maybe the Yamanaka are a noble family?” he suggests, even though he doesn’t believe it for a minute. Still, anything to keep Shinji focused; this town looks like it’s militarized to an extreme degree, if the uniforms Shūhei is seeing mean anything.

A pretty enough place, Shūhei thinks, flicking a glance at the greenery-covered buildings as they pass. There's too much cover for attackers, though, and it makes his skin prickle. Maybe some people don’t like to strike from behind, but Shūhei does, and he’s uncomfortably aware of just how many places people could hide in this place.

“Hey,” Shinji says in his ear, sudden enough to make Shūhei startle. He twists, looking over, and Shinji catches his gaze with sharp brown eyes. “Nobody’s lurking, yeah? This place is busy. No one cares that we’re walking.”

Right, Shūhei thinks, forcing himself to take a breath. Easy to forget, with the way he acts, that Shinji is actually a genius, and one of the most dangerous members of the Gotei 13. He’s watching, he knows the dangers, ad he survived a hundred years on the run with both Aizen and the Seireitei after him. Shūhei should probably stop underestimating him.

“Sorry, Captain,” he says formally, starts to drop back to walk three steps behind him like he would with his own captain—

Shinji catches his elbow before he can, dragging Shūhei right along with him as he makes a turn down a side street. “Yeah, that’s bullshit too,” he says, unimpressed. “I don’t know what Kensei’s been telling ya but knock that shit off. You're not a flunky, yeah?”

Shūhei restrains a wince, doesn’t tell him that it wasn’t Kensei who drilled him on protocol. Mentioning any of the traitors around the Vizards is generally a bad idea, really. “Yes, Captain,” he says instead, and Shinji huffs and pouts, tipping his head back.

“Why do I even bother,” he asks the sky, entirely aggrieved, and Shūhei looks away to study their surroundings as a smile threatens. At least, he tells himself, if he had to get stuck somewhere strange with one of the captains, it was a mostly unobjectionable one. If it was Mayuri, Shūhei might have been tempted to desert and find his own way back to Soul Society.

The grip on his elbow tightens, and Shinji casually steers him out of the way of five people in uniform as they hurry past, clearly on their way somewhere. Carrying packs, Shūhei thinks, eyeing their equipment. Patrols, maybe? There were no signs of war that they passed on their way here, or at least nothing recent, so they're probably not headed to a battlefield.

“Shoulda captured that slippery snake bastard,” Shinji says, also watching the squad pass. “He looked too much like Ichimaru not to have _something_ to do with this shit.”

“And Kurotsuchi,” Shūhei mutters, because years of friendship with Akon can only make him _more_ wary around the Twelfth’s captain. Every time he sees Mayuri, even in passing, he feels like a bug that’s about to be pinned to a card and sliced into pieces.

Shinji barks out a laugh, slinging his sword over his shoulder. “Noticed that resemblance, did ya?” he asks, and takes another turn to keep towards the edges of the crowd. Because he’s looking for it, Shūhei sees the way his eyes sweep over the other people on the street, lingering on those who carry themselves like they’ve been trained. There are a lot of them, Shūhei thinks a little uncomfortably. Whatever this place is, there's about one trained fighter to every two civilians, and that’s a hell of a population percentage.

“The horned mask and the creepy laugh made it kind of hard to miss,” he points out, following the path of another uniformed figure as they bounce from rooftop to rooftop. Not quite a shinigami’s weightlessness, but…probably the closest he’s ever seen outside of the Court Guard Squads.

Shinji grins, too many teeth and too much viciousness. “Makes me happy ya kicked him in the face. Should be some kind of civic duty, when ya see people like that.”

It would have been better if that kick wasn’t about the most they’d managed, Shūhei thinks with a grimace. He’d been off balance, disoriented from being dragged right out of the Rukongai and straight to…here, wherever that is. When he’d seen the man leaning over him, pulling up his mask—

Well. Shūhei survived eighteen years on his own in Inuzuri; some instincts are ingrained at this point.

“You're the one who drove him off,” he points out, sidestepping a gaggle of children who almost crash into his legs.

Shinji's grip on Sakanade tightens faintly, and he scoffs. “Shoulda cut his head off while I was at it,” he mutters, then taps the blade against his shoulder and glances around. “We should get out of uniform. ‘S making me itch, standing out like this.”

As little as Shūhei likes the idea of taking off his uniform, Shinji is right. no one else is wearing anything similar, and Shūhei is self-aware enough to know that his looks invite trouble at the best of times. “Yes sir,” he agrees. “Laundry lines, or—?”

“Soul King save me from Rukongai brats,” Shinji mutters, shoving him forward. “ _Less_ attention, not more, kid. I get the feeling robbing a place isn’t the best way to stay under the radar, yeah? No idea how long it’ll take the Seireitei to notice we got snatched, and how, but I'm betting it won't be quickly. ‘Specially since the snatching was done from _this_ side.”

Mashiro is going to _destroy_ his filing system, Shūhei thinks with resigned horror, and wonders if it would be appropriate to cry. And, unfortunately, neither he nor Shinji is a scientist; they can _look_ for information on why they ended up here and how to get home, but more than likely they're not going to be able to do much of anything.

“Next time, _Renji_ can investigate the abandoned shrine in the middle of nowhere,” he says, mostly resigned, but he lets Shinji shove him towards a store that looks promising.

Shinji snickers. “I’d pay money to see Byakuya-hime get dumped here,” he says gleefully. “See how _he_ likes gettin’ labeled a Yamanaka without ‘em bothering to take a second look.”

Shūhei doesn’t bother to point out that Byakuya probably wouldn’t be called that, since the gate guards mistook _Shinji_ for a Yamanaka, and the only thing Byakuya and Shinji have in common is their rank. He’s definitely not going to say as much, though. Shinji likes to pick fights, and Shūhei would rather not give him ammunition.

“They’ll probably call in Urahara once they notice we didn’t report back,” he says, largely to reassure himself. The man may have been banished well before Shūhei became a shinigami, but from every story Shūhei has heard, Urahara is the only one to ever rival Aizen—maybe even surpass him—where intelligence was concerned.

Shinji huffs. “At least the little creep’ll be good for something,” he says, and Shūhei carefully bites his tongue to keep from laughing. Pots and kettles, he thinks, but swallows the amusement and pauses outside the shop door, offering Shinji the purse he swiped from one of the wealthier-looking civilians they passed. The look on the captain’s face makes the effort of remembering his former skills entirely worth it.

“ _Rukongai brats_ ,” Shinji laments loudly, but he takes the purse anyway.

“Lower district snobs,” Shūhei retorts mildly, and walks right past Shinji's startled gaping into the store. Really, Shūhei’s a lieutenant, and that means a certain level of formality, but Shinji's entirely right. He’s a Rukongai brat from one of the highest districts, and he’s a survivor. Being stranded in another world is _worrying_ , definitely, but the situation is hardly _desperate_.

Kazeshini cackles in his head, entirely, smugly amused, and Shūhei ghosts a touch over the blade’s sheath and goes to find clothes that are a little more inconspicuous.

 

 

Kensei, Shinji thinks moodily as he picks at his ramen, is _definitely_ going to kill him.

Really, his thing about his lieutenant—his _second_ lieutenant, because apparently he couldn’t bring himself to demote or transfer the kid, even though he already had Mashiro for the position—is a little ridiculous, and Shinji doesn’t know the cause, but he still _clearly_ remembers the way Kensei practically beheaded him when he mentioned that the guy was hot. Not jealousy, because he and Mashiro have their thing that Shinji tries not to think about, but whatever it is, if _looking_ has an attached death penalty in Kensei’s mind, Shinji doesn’t even want to imagine what getting Shūhei stranded in another world will land him with.

At least Shūhei himself doesn’t seem all that troubled. Wary, definitely, to the point of being a little twitchy, but since it’s his back Shūhei is keeping an eye on Shinji can more than live with that. Otherwise, he’s accepted the situation well enough, and from the way he’s inhaling his ramen anyone looking at him wouldn’t be able to tell something was wrong.

It’s good he’s not a nervous wreck, Shinji thinks sourly, but if Urahara doesn’t get them home _quickly_ Shinji's going to have to have words with him. Shinji got more than enough of keeping his head down and trying to blend in when they were hiding from Aizen and Soul Society both. He’s sick and tired of it, and if they’re stuck here too long he’s going to do something dramatic.

“Are you going to finish that?” Shūhei asks, casting a sidelong glance at Shinji's food.

Rukongai brats and their bad habits. Shinji rolls his eyes and pointedly tugs his bowl closer to himself. “Oi, quit that. This is mine.”

Still, he gives in and waves to catch the cook’s attention. When the man glances at him, he gestures to Shūhei’s empty bowl and asks, “Mind makin’ another?”

The man chuckles, though he casts a quick look at the street in front of the stand like he’s waiting for someone. “Of course not. Your friend seems quite hungry.”

“It’s good,” Shūhei says a little sheepishly, ducking his head. There's color in his cheeks, and he rubs a finger over one of the three scars that trace down the side of his face. He’s all lean muscle and sharp edges and questionable taste in accessories, and Shinji has to drag his eyes ways from that blush before he groans out loud. _Fucking adorable_ , he laments. He got the traumatized, Aizen-worshiping lieutenant, and Kensei got the practical, capable, _cute_ one who actually killed his traitorous captain himself and is good at paperwork on top of that. As soon as they're back in the Seireitei, Shinji is going to file a complaint with the Captain-Commander. Maybe bribe Shūhei into transferring to the Fifth, while he’s at it; if he leaves a trail of food right to the lieutenant’s office that’ll probably do the trick.

The cook laughs cheerfully, and a moment later another bowl settles in front of Shūhei. “You two look like you’ve been on patrol for a while,” he says. “Its good to come home to a hot meal.”

Shinji thinks of his captain’s quarters in the Fifth, quiet and serene and _boring_ after a hundred years cramped into small spaces with seven Vizards, and sumps back in his seat, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “Ah, sometimes comin’ home doesn’t mean what ya think it will,” he says, and pretends not to notice the slightly started glance Shūhei gives him.

“Konoha is safer for it,” the cook says with a sympathetic smile. “I—Naruto!”

A little curious, Shinji tilts his head even further, until he’s almost tipped over backwards on his stool and looking at the street upside down. There's a little blond boy hovering at the edge of the stall, watching Shinji and Shūhei with wary blue eyes, but when the cook makes a beckoning motion he slides in. Not more than five, Shinji guesses. His clothes are a little too small, and there's a rip in his shorts that hasn’t been mended. Busy parents, maybe; he’s out on his own, after all, and the cook seems to know him, so he must have been by before.

“Old man Teuchi!” the boy says cheerfully enough, and grabs onto a stool, trying to haul himself up. It’s a little amusing, because the stool is a good bit taller than he is, and Shinji hides a smirk by looking back up at the ceiling.

From next to him, there's a sigh that’s largely exasperation, and Shūhei slides off of his seat. Instantly, the cook tenses, but before Teuchi can open his mouth Shūhei grabs the kid under the arms and hoists him up, gently dropping him on the stool. “Careful,” he warns, sliding back into his spot next to Shinji. “Falling from up there would be bad.”

The kid is gaping at him, mouth open and eyes wide, like he just pulled Kazeshini out of thin air instead of just acting like a mature adult. It’s odd, Shinji thinks, and part of him is always going to be a suspicious bastard, but it lets him pick up the little things. Like Teuchi’s relief breaking into a wide smile, or the way the brat stares up at Shūhei with something like awe even as the lieutenant goes back to his ramen without noticing.

This would be why it’s a bad idea to pretend to be from this place, Shinji reflects, and wonders how they're going to talk themselves out of it if they broke some kind of taboo speaking to the kid.

If they did, the boy certainly isn’t about to mention it. He looks from Shūhei to the zanpakuto strapped across his back, glances at the scars on his arms and the tattoos on his face, and asks with a good dose of wonder, “Are you a _shinobi_?”

Shinji forces himself not to stiffen at the term, but _fuck_ he hates dealing with the Onmitsukidō. If this world’s shinobi are anything like them, they're going to have to tread very carefully.

“What do you think?” he drawls, before Shūhei can say anything. The lieutenant flicks a glance at Shinji, but doesn’t argue.

It doesn’t seem to turn the boy off; he practically bounces in his seat, and asks, “Can I see your sword?”

Sakanade is a picky thing at the best of times, and Shinji's not about to risk what might happen to the kid just by touching his zanpakuto. He opens his mouth to refuse, but Shūhei glances at him again, then pauses, head tilted like he’s listening to his sword, and pulls the blade sheath and all over his head.

“Sure,” he says, and with that expression on his face it’s easy to see why Hinamori, Abarai, and Kira still call him _senpai_. Shinji contains his snort of amusement, grinning at the scene as Shūhei crouches down by the kid’s stool, offering him the zanpakuto. “His name is Kazeshini, and I'm Hisagi.”

“Your sword has a name?” the kid asks, and he almost drops the sword, the blade too heavy, but Shūhei catches it before it can slip from his hold.

“Of course,” Shūhei tells him seriously. “He’s my partner. I couldn’t fight well without him. Not knowing his name would be foolish.”

Blue eyes flicker from Shūhei to the zanpakuto, and then the boy beams. “Hi, Kazeshini!” he says brightly. “Hi, Hisagi! I'm Uzumaki Naruto!”

“It’s good to meet you, Naruto,” Shūhei says, smiling back just a little. “Kazeshini says you have a good, strong grip.”

Naruto's eyes go very wide, his whole face lighting up, and this time Shinji doesn’t hide his snort as he turns back to his food, keeping a portion of his attention on the two but letting them be.

“Thank you,” Teuchi tells him, quiet enough not to be overheard.

Easy enough to guess what he’s talking about, but it’s still uncertain territory where the _why_ is concerned, and Shinji isn’t about to venture in that direction in case they give themselves away. Instead, he tips one shoulder in a shrug, making sure his mouth is full so he can't answer. Teuchi just smiles, inclining his head, and moves back to make another bowl.

One bullet successfully dodged, Shinji finishes off his ramen, then casually spins around on his stool, leaning back and bracing his elbows against the counter. The street is perfectly in his line of vision, and he studies each person walking past from under his lashes, wary of any sideways glances. There are plenty, and it’s entirely unsettling, but…

They're not directed at Shinji and Shūhei. They're aimed at the _kid_ , and it’s making the hair on the back of Shinji's neck stand up. A couple of uniformed shinobi even stopped in their tracks when they saw him, turned around, and left the shop entirely.

Not normal reactions at all, Shinji thinks, and soothes Sakanade with a thought when the spirit starts to hiss angrily in his head. He doesn’t want to stand out, but…

If the only way to fit in is to shun a brat with a happy smile, Shinji can live with standing out while they're here.

“Hey,” he says to Teuchi as the cook passes him. He waves a hand at where Naruto is still interrogating Shūhei, and says flippantly, “Put it on my bill, yeah?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Teuchi says, though his smile is warm. “Sarutobi-sama pays for his meals here. There's a fund set aside for all the orphans.”

Something heavy settles into Shinji's chest, and he tries not to let his wince show. Orphan. That makes sense, given the clothes and the fact that he’s running around on his own. He wants to ask about foster families, why no one’s taken the kid in, but that probably crosses the line into something a native should know.

Well, he thinks, and closes his eyes, listening to the little boy chatter to Shūhei without seeming to pause for breath. They don’t know how long they’ll be here, but it will be at least a few days. From experience, Shinji knows just how much even a few hours of kindness can help when all you're used to is cruelty.

“Monster,” a passing woman mutters, and Shinji cracks an eyelid to see her clutching her child close as she passes, glaring at Naruto.

Inside his head, the Hollow hisses, heavy and wavering. Shinji curls his fingers around the edge of the counter, then abruptly pushes to his feet.

“Come on,” he tells Shūhei, who looks startled, but obediently rises. Disappointment flashes across Naruto's face, but before it can settle Shinji says, “Get you food to go, kid. If there's a park around here Shūhei can show you some moves.”

There's that joy again, bright and full of hope. “I know where the training grounds are!” Naruto says excitedly, wriggling down from his stool. “Old man Teuchi, can you make it to go?”

“Of course, Naruto.” Teuchi smiles at him, then pulls a container down off the shelf. “Be careful, all right? Swords are sharp, and you haven’t even started the Academy yet.”

“I’ll be okay!” Naruto says with complete conviction, and then, to Shūhei, “Are you a swordsman? Are you really good? Can I be as good as you?”

Shūhei flushes, looking flustered, and Shinji snickers. “Yeah, he’s good,” he assures Naruto, before Shūhei can try to deny it. “One of the best. He’s a lieutenant for a reason.”

Naruto scrunches up his face in confusion. “A loo-what?”

Damn. Shinji had been hoping ranks would translate. “Lieutenant,” he repeats breezily, because the best way to get through any questionable situation is bullshit and confidence. “I'm a captain, and he’s just one step down from me, yeah?”

If the kid’s eyes get any wider they’re going to fall out of his head. “Like an _ANBU_ captain?” he demands. “That’s so cool! Do you know jutsus? Can you make fireballs? How about _lightning_?”

Well, Shinji's never been the best at kido, but those are hardly high-level tricks. “Yeah, o’course,” he confirms, then offers Naruto a sly smile. “Shūhei’s even better at it, though. I've got different tricks.”

“Captain!” Shūhei protests, and his face is so red Shinji could probably fry an egg on it.

 _Fucking_ adorable _, damn it all to hell_ , Shinji thinks, and really hopes Kensei can't read thoughts across dimensions.

“Have fun, Naruto,” Teuchi says, passing the ramen over to Shinji.

Naruto beams. “I'm gonna be a swordsman too!” he says enthusiastically. “An’ I’ll get a sword just like Kazeshini and name it something really cool!” He grabs Shūhei’s arm, practically bouncing, then seems to realize what he just did and freezes.

Perfectly casual, Shūhei shifts just enough to slide his hand into Naruto's grip instead of his forearm, though Shinji catches the glance Shūhei shoots at him. He holds the look, his own mouth twisting bitterly, and Shūhei looks down to smile at Naruto.

“I’ll help you figure out the basics,” he promises. “You're going to have to practice a lot, though. It’s hard work.”

“That’s okay!” Naruto says, and grips Shūhei’s hand as hard as he can. “I’ll practice every day until I'm as good as you, believe it!”

Shinji thinks of Kurosaki Ichigo, controlling his Hollow, channeling that power. Thinks of the way Soul Society labeled all the Vizards as monsters, only to have the monsters save them from Aizen.

“I believe you,” he tells Naruto, patting him briefly on the head. They’ll only have a few days here, but—maybe it’s enough to make a difference.

Shinji is pretty sure it will be.

 

 

(Hiruzen is mildly surprised when Naruto asks for a sword for his birthday, but the boy is going to be a shinobi and Kushina was always fond of kenjutsu, so he fulfills the request without much thought. Naruto is a child, after all, and he’s likely to have many interests before he settles on one in particular. The sword will make a good temporary diversion and hopefully keep the boy from demanding to wear the Hokage's hat every time he sees it, so the price of a child-sized blade seems like a perfectly acceptable tradeoff for a bit of peace.

The sword is not, in fact, a temporary diversion.

It is _very much_ not a temporary diversion, to the point that Hiruzen feels a little insulted that the _Hokage's seat_ apparently comes distant second to _kenjutsu_. Though, he will admit, it’s more than a little satisfying to have Naruto off stalking all of the village’s swordsmen rather than the Hokage's office, so he can't entirely resent the switch.

After the tenth time Hayate creeps into his office, meekly requesting that the Hokage retrieve Naruto and keep him out of the way at least until Hayate can get off duty, Hiruzen gives in to the inevitable and gives Hayate a promotion and an apprentice.

Naruto is thrilled, Hayate bewildered, and Hiruzen still has no idea where this obsession started, but at least it’s turning out rather well. Things could be far worse.)


End file.
